Death And All Its Friends
by Raisiny
Summary: Death (the Spirit of Demise) gets a surprise visitor on the morning of the 2012 apocalypse, and gives out a bit of her opinion on the human race. One shot, but I may add more. Rated T, just to be safe. Pretty much my first fanfiction so don't read it if you don't want your eyes to bleed. (Partially based off of Coldplay's Album "Viva La Vida", which is where the title comes from.)


**Author's comments at the very end.**

Death had a very quiet existence. She'd been around nearly as long as mankind itself. For thousands of years, Death had watched as the human race developed and evolved. She'd witnessed the rise and fall of great civilizations, and revolution after revolution. Centuries felt like minutes, and passed in the blink of an eye.

The other immortals avoided her. She assumed it was partially out of fear–after all, she was the Spirit of Demise, and although she didn't actually cause death, she was a part of the process. Even so, Death was quite sure it had more to do with her origins than her current state.

During earlier periods, people had believed in multiple deities. They varied, of course. No two ancient religions were exactly alike. Some had similar beliefs, like Greece and Rome of course, but there were several differences. Death and the afterlife had always been important parts of religion. The idea of living in paradise for eternity was desirable. Spending life after death in torment? Not so much.

Throughout the existence of the human race, Death guided people to the afterlife. Mostly children, although occasionally she would come across younger teenagers who lost their way. The older a person was, the more easily they could find their own path. With children it wasn't so simple. Sometimes they didn't understand they were dead, and continued on as if they were still living.

Her job was a hectic one. Death could appear in multiple places at the same time, across the globe. However, those were just images. Projections. She had a single physical form, and could only truly exist in one place.

Every time she had guided a child to the next life, Death was left with their memories. She remembered the lives of children from the Roman Empire, the French Revolution, Colonial America... from times so long ago that she could hardly remember. Her own past was in there somewhere, buried beneath the lives of millions.

It was the first morning of winter when Death had a surprise visitor.

She sat in the middle of a graveyard in London, England. Surrounding her were statues, and over thirty-five thousand graves, marked with headstones.

The sky was dark, and covered in storm clouds. It was just before dawn, and the sun has not yet reached the horizon. Had there been light out, (and if she could be seen) Death would have been plainly visible against the thin layer of snow that blanketed the cemetery.

Although her skin was light, like the marble statues of ancient Greece and Rome, her wavy hair was a dark auburn color, and reached just past her shoulder blades. Death's face had always been pale, no matter how warm or cold. Her cheeks never reddened, and her lips had always been white. It looked if she had been drained of blood.

She appeared to be a young woman, possibly seventeen or eighteen. Death typically wore a black hooded cloak, or on more formal occasions, a black suit. Currently, she was dressed quite casually, wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans.

Death had spent several hours in the cemetery, revisiting the memories of souls she had guided. Children killed in raids. From the plague. Starvation. Car crashes. The list went on and on. There seemed to be no end to it.

She rarely got visitors. Death wasn't exactly easy to find. Usually, once or twice per century, an immortal would track her down. It only happened when they were particularly pissed off at her.

And then there was Pitch.

During the Dark Ages, Pitch had visited her often. It was just after the outbreak of the Black Death, and the deaths of millions. He had been powerful back then, but of course nothing could last forever. Eventually the Nightmare King had been defeated by the Guardians, a group made up of the elite immortals.

Death hadn't seen him since the second World War, and was quite surprised to see him show up that morning.

Pitch appeared straight out of the dark. There was no grand entry. He didn't bother with trying to make a scene, like he did with the Guardians.

When Pitch created chaos, Death didn't interfere. She never tried to stop his plots, no matter how horrible. By both mortal and immortal standards, Death was worse than Fear. She was the one thing lower than him.

But that didn't stop him from being rude.

"A bit ironic, finding you in a cemetery of all places," Pitch sneered. "It's been a while, Death."

Death opened her stone gray eyes, and pushed the memories from her mind. "If by 'a while' you mean 70 years, then I suppose so."

"I hope you're enjoying the apocalypse. The twenty-first of December, two thousand and twelve, if I remember correctly?"

"Yes, that's correct." She released a quiet sigh. "The human race will always try to determine when their world will end. They predict a date, and it looms over them. Many believe that nothing will happen, and they are right. I have lived through countless supposed apocalypses, and the world has spun on."

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten you have the history of the world memorized. All of the stories of kings and princes, as well as their violent murders."

Death could feel his soulless eyes staring at her. Trying to bring to mind all of the blood and horrors she had witnessed. "History is the story of monsters and men, Pitch," she replied. Streaks of light were rising from the horizon, showing faintly through the layer of gray clouds. "Nothing more."

"Oh, really, now," Pitch muttered. "Who are you referring to? The human race? You, the outcast? Or do you mean me, the bringer of terror?"

"Both of us. And not just us, but all immortals, the Guardians included. We live hundreds and thousands of life spans. We pretend to care about the lives of the young, who ultimately move on, leave their beliefs behind, and succumb to death. They are worn down by life, and it shows. They strive to look, think, and act young for as long as they can, but in the end it's meaningless.

"And then you have us. We will never age. We will never die. Unless children stop believing, we'll live on for eternity. Only then will we fade, and along with us, the spirit and joy of childhood."

"You're really letting it get to you, aren't you?"

Death narrowed her eyes, and glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're being less bitchy than normal," Pitch replied, ignoring her stare. "Typically you yell at me to 'go the hell away', because you 'don't want to put up with my shit'. Now you're just rambling on about your opinions. However, when the supposed apocalypse hits, you act so much more relaxed. It's quite unusual."

"Well excuse me for being polite," she grumbled. "Would prefer it if I called you an asshole?

"No, not really."

"I'm just tired, Pitch. I've lived in solitude my entire life, and it's not exactly fun. My job isn't all that enjoyable. I want it to end, but it won't. People will always die, there's no stopping that."

"Do you honestly think you're the only one who lives alone? I live in exile, cast out by the other immortals."

Death turned away from him. Instead she focused her gaze on a row of graves in the distance. Yes, Pitch was on his own, but that was because of decisions he had made himself. Death had never done anything to anyone. She wasn't seen by humans. It was impossible for her to make contact with them, much less harm them.

"You represent fear and nightmares; the cold and dark evil that haunts their memories. Pain and suffering. You don't only affect children, Pitch. You affect adults as well. Even as their nightmares fade, and their childhood fears, it evolves into anxiety and depression. It makes you dangerous.

"On the other hand, I have no powers or abilities. I don't cause death, and I certainly can't bring people back to life. All I do is guide the lost souls of children to the boundary between this world and the next. I've never done anything more than that. I don't like the fact they have to die without fully experiencing life. I've never liked it. It's the worst part of what I do."

The sun was slowly rising over the city, barely visible between the clouds. It had been nearly silent, but with the dawn came the beginning of the day. The temperature was slowly rising, though was still below freezing, leaving the snow frozen on the ground.

"Even if you don't kill people, you represent their passing. If they die, it isn't your problem. What difference does it make if they die? If humans lived forever, wouldn't you cease do exist?"

"To be completely honest, I don't know. I've been around as long as mankind itself. My existence has never been threatened, because _all_ humans believe that they will, at some point, die. You don't need to believe in death to know it exists. You see it around you. Even the mightiest heroes of legends pass on. Until humans can transcend mortality, they'll believe that their lives will end. I'm not the same as the rest of you. My existence might not be conditional. It's possible that even after the human race dies out, I'll continue living."

"And what a shame that would be," Pitch hissed, disdain creeping into his voice. "Living in a world without the very beings that give the Guardians their power. They're weak, and worthless. All they want is to be the best. Their entire existence is a competition. It may no longer be about conquering land, or owning slaves, but they all want to be on top. All they care about is power."

Death was silent. Yes, humans could be selfish, jealous creatures. And yes, pride was a problem, but it was with everything—animals, humans, and immortals as well.

"For millennia I have guided lost souls to the other side." Death looked to the sky, watching the clouds darken. It seemed as if it was going to rain. " I've watched the evolution of the human race. There've been periods of misery and strife, but they overcome it and survive. I have faith in mankind. I believe that one day they will be satisfied. In the distant future, of course, but I believe one day they will all see themselves as equals.

"They've come so far, and will go further. The desire to be bigger and better is a part of human nature. A simple instinct. But some day, they'll realize how far they've ventured, and will they be satisfied with the world around them."

"You speak so highly of them," Pitch snarled. "Why? What has the human race ever done for you? They fear us. They fear the dark, and they fear death. They fear being the lowest. That will never change. They will always try to be on top, even if it means resorting to violence."

"There will come a time when there will be no fear. A day when you will no longer exist. There will be no fear of the dark. No fear of death. Everything dies, even immortals. There's no getting around that. At some point I will cease to exist. Maybe before the extinction of mankind, and maybe long after. There's no way of knowing when my time will come."

"And when it's your time to die? What will you say then, Death?"

Death looked at him, and said with finality: "Long live life."

* * *

**Author's Comments:**

**I apologize for making the commentary so long. I'd appreciate it if you'd read it, though!**

**First of all, I'm not very comfortable writing fiction. I mostly write essays and speeches for school assignments, and that's about it. I just felt really compelled to write this, so I apologize for its crappiness. If there's any errors/inconsistencies, I'm sorry. And I'm aware that it doesn't flow very well... _ I also apologize if the all of the dialogue sounds contradictory, I typically write late at night and... I guess this is my equivalent of night blogging (although a lot more... I don't know, it's stupid.)**

**I haven't read the books, or seen the movie, so I really have to apologize for it being inaccurate. And making Pitch out of character.**

**So yeah, this is pretty much my first fanfiction. Occasionally when I get bored, I'll start something and write a chapter, but I never really have a plot in mind, so I just quit. That's why I decided to make this a one-shot. However, I feel like I didn't really go in-depth on Death's character, so I may add more eventually. The story doesn't really depict how I imagined her personality—with the world being in chaos, I felt that she'd just be exhausted and fed up with her work, not even bothering to tell Pitch to go away. In a "I don't fucking care at this point" mood. Just 10000% done. (Only tumblr users will understand that, sorry.)**

**I don't really have any idea how to continue this. I'd really like to, but I'm not quite sure yet, so I'll leave it as In-Progress until I make my decision. I'm open to suggestions/ideas if you have any.**

**The idea for this fic came to me when I was listening to Coldplay's album, "Viva La Vida Or Death And All His Friends". I changed the title from "his" to "its", though. I made Death female, mostly just because Death is usually personified as male, but partially because I'm female and since I have little writing experience, it was a bit more comfortable. There are references to lyrics from the album throughout the fic, and if anyone finds them, let me know!**

**If you're confused for why I said "immortals" instead of Guardians, in one of the trailers (or maybe it was a clip, I've seen so many I've lost track) Jack refers to the Guardians as "the big four". This sort of implies that there are other immortals who are not a part of the Guardians, perhaps representing other childhood myths.**

**I'd like to write about her first encounter with Jack Frost at some point (because honestly, who doesn't like him?) buuut it probably won't happen because no ideas /sobs**

**This is getting pretty long, so I'm just gonna stop here.**

**Ughh I'm sorry it's stupid, it was just stuck in my head and I needed to get it out.**


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